


Far Too Young To Die

by doctordeanho1mes



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:30:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctordeanho1mes/pseuds/doctordeanho1mes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are in a relationship with Bucky Barnes and you get receive life-changing news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far Too Young To Die

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is really sad and I'm really sorry for writing it. This is only my second fanfic ever so if you could please leave any type feedback in the comments I'd really appreciate it! Thanks for reading :)

Leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter, you gaze out of the rain-streaked window, coffee mug in hand. Worry was written across your face in deepening lines, becoming more apparent everyday that passed without receiving word from across the Atlantic. Your vision blurs as you lose focus of the present and think back to the last time the two of you were together, the night of the World’s Fair. The night before he shipped out to England to join the 107th. 

* * *

Bucky Barnes had promised a fun night of futuristic thrills, followed by some dancing and drinks. Although you knew there would be a catch, you still got ready hoping that it would just be the two of you. Of course, that never could have happened due to the close bond he shared with none other than Steve Rogers. It wasn’t that you hated Steve, you were just jealous of the fact that him and Bucky were practically inseparable. Sure enough when you answered the door, you were greeted by your up-beat boyfriend and his apologetic-looking best friend. The smile on Bucky’s face was wide enough to make you forgive him in the time it took you to finish opening the door. 

“Hey, doll. You ready to go,” Bucky asks in his calm, soothing voice.

“Just let me grab my purse,” you reply, turning to the table where you left it.

* * *

A sudden flash of lightning pulls you out of your reverie and, you silently count the seconds until the accompanying boom of thunder reaches your ears. When you were growing up, thunderstorms would always cause you to tremble in fear, until you met Bucky. When he first discovered your fear you thought he would laugh at your trembling form and leave you to brave the storm alone on your couch like your last boyfriend had done. Instead of walking away, he held you in his arms and taught you to count the seconds between the lightning and thunder to help you know when it should be ending, which helped to ease your storm-related anxiety. 

You continue to use this simple trick as you finish getting ready for work in the plane factory. You hope the war will be over soon. You’re not sure how much longer you can last constantly worry about Bucky’s safety, especially after the last letter he sent home, detailing his capture and torture at the hands of Hydra. He also wrote of Steve’s heroic rescue and their new assignment hunting down Hydra bases across Europe. You were proud of the work they were doing, and immensely glad that even half a world away, Steve and Bucky were still glued to each others’ side, watching out for each other.

You remind yourself of this fact as you grab your purse and step out of the door to go to work, hoping that a letter would be waiting for you when you return.

* * *

On the bus ride home, you make polite conversation with your friends from work, speaking of everything and anything but the war raging on across the sea. It was like an unspoken rule, not talking about the war and how loved ones may be fairing. Being alone with your thoughts when at home was bad enough, sharing your worries with others in the same situation would only make it worse.

As soon as the bus reaches your stop, you excuse yourself and make your way off of the bus and head towards your small home on the corner of the block. Keeping your head down against the wind, your mind wanders back to worrying about your one true love. It has been a while since you’ve heard from him, and the stormy weather makes you uneasy, like its some kind of an omen.

No sooner does your mind come to this conclusion than you turn up the walkway to your house and finally lift your eyes from the pavement. Your heart immediately drops in your chest, leaving you queasy and light-headed, tears welling in your eyes. 

The army messenger stands from his seat on the front steps, walking towards you with a small piece of paper in his right hand.

“Are you (f/n) (l/n),” he asks in a deep, somewhat emotionless voice. 

“Y- Yes, that’s m-me,” you choke out, attempting to remain strong in front of this complete stranger.

“I’m am very sorry, ma’am, but I regret to inform you that your fiancé, James Buchanan Barnes, has been killed in action, serving his country,” the officer states, handing you the dreaded telegram.

“We, we weren’t engaged,” you say in confusion. “We were only dating.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s just what the telegram said,” the officer informs you. “I am truly sorry for your loss, but I have to move on to the next house. Once again I am very sorry for your loss.”

As the officer walks off, you run into the house as fast as your legs can carry you, slamming the door behind you and leaning on it for support. As the initial shock wears off, the weight of what has happened hits you like a freight train. Tears pour down your face and sobs wrack your entire body as your legs begin to give out, forcing you to slide down the door. You collapse on the floor and cry out, not caring if your neighbors hear your screams.

Sobbing, you clutch your arms to your sides to help with the aching. As you let out another harsh wail, thunder once again cracks above your head, the world joining you in your sorrow.

* * *

A few days have passed since you received the news of Bucky’s death and you finally get up the courage to walk to the mailbox that sits at the juncture between the walkway to your house and the public sidewalk. You can tell that your face is still swollen from the constant tears that you have shed. A permanent aching has also taken up residence in your throat, both physical reminders of a life taken too soon.

Reaching the mailbox, you pull open the little door and take out the pile of mail that has accumulated inside. After you make it back inside your house, you sort through the mail, setting all but one letter aside to be read at a later time. The letter you choose to open now looks incredibly worn, like it has traveled a great distance. There is no return address written upon the envelope but you would recognize Bucky’s handwriting anywhere. 

You carefully open the envelope, pulling out the letter and setting its wrapper aside with a soft thump. You pick it up and dump the contents into your hand, revealing a simple, yet beautiful engagement ring. Your shock and confusion worsening, you think back to what the army officer had said when he had given you the news. Quickly switching on the lights, you sit down at the kitchen table, reading the last letter Bucky sent you before the worst happened.

(f/n),

Hey doll, I hope all is going well for you back home. I know the lack of letters must be worrying you so I would like to apologize and, like always, blame Steve for getting himself into trouble leaving me with no time to write. It’s impossible to keep that kid out of trouble anymore.

Enough about Steve. How is work going? I know you probably don’t mind having a job but I promise that as soon as I get home you will never have to work a day in your life again. Anything you want, I’ll make sure you have it.

So, I was going to wait until my next visit to London and have you come over but I doubt that will happen anytime soon, so I’m going to ask you in this letter. If you want me to do it the right way when I get back, I promise I will, but for now this will have to do.

(f/n), you are the love of my life and I have known it since the moment I laid eyes on you. You always know the right things to say and when to say them. You even put up with me and Steve being so close which really means a lot to both of us. I love the way you laugh and smile and brighten up even the darkest room with happiness and I want to spend the rest of my life drowning in it.

Will you make me the happiest man in the world and please marry me?

I put a ring in the envelope for you to wear if you say yes. Who am I kidding, of course you’ll say yes. I still want a letter back with your answer though. And please include every minor detail of your life, I will enjoy reading every second of it. I miss you so much and can’t wait until the day I will see you again.

 

With All My Love,  
Bucky

 

As soon as you realized the purpose of the letter, tears began streaming down your face for the millionth time in the past two days. Sobs once again wrack your body as you finish the letter and think of the life you might have had, if only Bucky had lived. 

It takes hours for you to calm down again. You pick up Bucky’s ring with shaking fingers and gently slide it onto your left ring-finger. It’s a perfect fit. You stare at the ring on your finger, tears begging to brim over onto your cheeks as your strength once again wavers. He would want you to be strong in his absence, keep living your life to its fullest. But he was gone, and you were still here, with one word stuck on repeat in your head. 

“Yes,” you whisper to the silence surrounding you, as you once again breakdown.


End file.
